


We start with stars in our eyes

by AHeartLikeGlass



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bisexual Victor Nikiforov, Coach Victor Nikiforov, College, Katsuki Yuuri Is a Victor Nikiforov Fan, M/M, Minako runs a figure skating club, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining Katsuki Yuuri, Skater Katsuki Yuuri, Skater Victor Nikiforov, US National Champion Victor, Victor is mysterious, figure skating, skills and titles are scaled down a bit to fit the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 21:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20748794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHeartLikeGlass/pseuds/AHeartLikeGlass
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki started figure skating at age nine. Despite loving the sport his depression and body image during his teenage years kept him from fulfilling his dream to skate in competition. After years of skating inconsistently he switches figure skating clubs and finds his motivation in the form of Victor Nikiforov.A story where no one is perfect and they all have to fight for what they want and love.





	We start with stars in our eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> This is the first Yuri on Ice fanfic I've written! This first chapter is mostly backstory to Yuuri's character and skating career, to get the fic started. His skating history is a little complicated so I took the time to really get into it in the introduction.  
I hope you'll enjoy it, please let me know what you think!
> 
> For clarification: Minako's figure skating club is devided into groups based on level, that share the ice with each other. 
> 
> (Also, yes, the title is a reference to 'Waving through a window' from Dear Evan Hansen)

Yuuri had been skating on and off for ten years. He’d started after watching a figure skating movie, having fallen in love with it. He had made everyone watch the movie with him. His mother, his father, his sister. By the time they had grown bored of it he was still enamored with the movements, the costumes, the rivalry and friendship. He’d become obsessed over summer, which meant he had to wait it out before lessons started up again. The closest rink was 45 minutes away, and it didn’t stay open in the summer back then. He’d spent hours at the bridge near their home, willing his fingers to make the lake freeze over. It never budged, but he kept daydreaming. He had started figure skating at age nine, full of hopes and dreams. His first lesson he worked tirelessly and cast glances at the group at the far end of the rink, doing sit spins and doubles. He wanted that, he really did.

He skated at that club for a year, got his first skating diploma, learned how to do crossovers and skated on public ice after every lesson. He only skated once a week, but it had become his favorite day of the week. When summer approached he refused to stop, so his mother begrudgingly agreed to take him to the rink that was even further away that did stay open year round. A summer and another season passed and he learned spins and single jumps. He wasn’t a natural, but he progressed steadily enough. He still dreamed of skating more, of doing competitions. Having a program. But he never told his trainer, never muttered a word about his intentions to her. Nor to his mother. At the end of the season he did all but one club diploma.

Somewhere that summer he fell off the wagon.

Puberty and depression hit him like he’d never been hit with anything in his short and relatively carefree life. It was something that rid him to his bed every day after school. He was functioning, still, somewhat. But not living. He found comfort in art, and drew tirelessly in an attempt to quell the restlessness and exhaustion he felt every day. Figure skating was something that had completely disappeared from his life and his mind. He realized he’d missed his window, realized that now it was too late for him to still compete. He’d never become good enough and it was all because he had been too afraid to tell his trainer of his ambitions, too scared she would say he wasn’t good enough.

He hated his body, in those years, too, would never have dared to step on the ice looking like he did.

His parents tried to understand, but never managed to see just how _bad_ it was.

They were simple people. The hot springs inn they owned in Japan had gone bankrupt, and they’d sought their money in the states, starting a spa specializing in several Japanese techniques. He had only been three years old when they moved to America. The spa ran smoothly, but they were not rich by any definition.

It was hard to say what had motivated him to pick up skating again, after three years of being away. He was still depressed, but he had started missing it, somehow. Suddenly, he’d realized how much he loved the ice. He thought, he’d just do it for fun. Once a week, when his state permitted it.

He’d lost a little of his weight, but was still heavy enough that it was confronting to step onto the ice.

But he still did. He went back to the rink that was 45 minutes away, figuring he didn’t need that summer anymore. And that was how he started again. It was a bumpy ride. He barely improved, with missing lessons regularly and only skating once a week, inconsistently. Being hesitant to actually use his body. He thought about quitting many times, hating himself for his lack of improvement, for being the worst in the group. He had been close once, when the trainer had told him he held back his group too much. He’d cried in a bathroom stall in the rink, cried until his glasses looked like they had been rained on and cried until the bathroom floor was wet by his feet.

He nearly did quit. Didn’t show up for a while. But eventually he came back.

Phichit, the only boy he would consider a friend had quit when he did. Or so he thought, until he saw him skate in a lesson after his. A lesson that seemed to be a different club.

“Yuuri!” He’d called out, and told him about the club he’d transferred to. That they were much smaller and nicer. And cheaper despite the great teaching quality.

It was a difficult decision, because he’d grown rather fond of his group mates, and even of his trainer, despite her brashness at times. But he hadn’t been improving for years. This could be his chance.

Switching now would mean doing basics until he got sick of them and then some, because his foundation was as terrible as the one the little shed in their backyard had. But he’d improve, maybe, eventually, finally. Maybe it was possible, after all. To do doubles. He had to choose between comfort and ambition, and it took him a while to decide.

Eventually he made the switch, and it was the best decision he had taken in a long time.

The coaches were friendly, they explained everything well and he’d never gotten so much personal attention. He was reunited with his friend, Phichit, and the group above his..

It was taught by Victor Nikiforov.

_The _Victor Nikiforov, US national champion. Yuuri had never seen someone skate like that. So self-assured and _fast_. When he passed you it was like the wind passed you by. When he jumped the ice cowered in fear. And he was so incredibly beautiful. And the people he taught, they were jumping doubles and triples.

This time he told Minako, the club manager and coach, he told her he wanted to get that good. He wanted to train under Victor.

And after watching him skate, Minako looked him up and down and told him that he’d be able to get there. They’d have to work on his foundation, first, and he’d have to skate more often, get some private lessons, but he could get there.

No one had ever told him he could get _anywhere_.

That was how it had started. That was how at eighteen years of age he was trying to train three times a week while being in his first year of college. He lost a lot of his weight, felt lighter. With doing a major he loved- art, and skating so often with a clear goal in mind. He felt lighter, he felt like finally the end of the tunnel was starting to show. He hadn’t been this consistent in years, and never missed that lesson on the Sunday morning. Not if he was sick, not if he wanted to die because he was hungover after a college party he’d gone to with Phichit. He never skipped. Because it was the only day of the week Victor taught on club ice. And even if the man had still not noticed him- didn’t know his name, had never spared him a glance, he would never miss an opportunity to see him skate.

He followed competitions more fervently, watching Victor skate on tv. He always qualified for the grand prix, but never made it to the finals, like he’d never made it to the world podiums. And Yuuri could see his frustration- he could land all the jumps, his technique was perfect, so why did he keep falling? He could only speculate, of course, and go off of what Minako told him about Victor.

In Victor’s group was rising star Yuri Plisetsky, fifteen year old and incredible. He was still skating in juniors, and it would be a while until he got into seniors, but Yuuri couldn’t wait to see him there. There was Sara, Who was landing triples like they were nothing. And there was Mila. Mila was Victor’s girlfriend. She was beautiful. Thin, flexible, an incredible skater. She was everything Yuuri was not. He tried not to care. She was always nice to him, there was no use in getting jealous. There were others, that came by to train with Victor, but those three were the core.

His own group was much bigger. The people were welcoming and nice. Phichit and Yuuko were the ones he grew closest to. He tried not to stare at Victor’s side of the rink too much, but Yuuko still noticed.

“Their skating is something else, huh?” She murmured softly.

He could only nod, and felt his face flush at having been caught staring.

And then one day, Minako had to cancel their private lesson last minute, but told him Victor would be there and that he could take him in her stead along with Yuri and Mila.

He nearly didn’t go, but then he realized he had to.

And all of that was how he ended up trying not to blush as Victor looked at him for what he was pretty sure was the first time.

“Yuuri, right?” He confirmed, adjusting the baseball cap he wore basically any time he wasn’t in competition. Yuuri suspected it was because of the bald spot at the top of his head.

He nodded, unable to say anything due to his nerves.

“I was looking at your axel a while ago, you need to transfer your weight to your right side more.”

  
Victor had looked at his axel. His shitty, barely able to land it axel. _Victor had looked at his axel_.

Thankfully Victor didn’t wait for an answer from him, because he wouldn’t have been able to manage one if he tried. Instead the coach showed him what he was doing wrong with nothing but a few silent gestures, and sent him to work on it. He resigned himself to a nice empty corner, and started with the advice Victor had given him. As he worked he couldn’t help sneaking glances at the man. He really was unfair, how a single push from his blade could carry him through the rink as if he was flying. He was demonstrating steps to Yuri, who had only sent him a nod so far and was otherwise ignoring him. The fifteen year old followed Victor’s steps, and they made a harmony as they went. He shook his head and went back to jumping his axels. It was his favorite jump when he managed to land it, and simultaneously the bane of his existence because he kept losing it every few weeks. This was one of those weeks where he couldn’t land it even if his life depended on it. Even with Victor’s tips, not much happened.

“Are you afraid of falling, Yuuri?” Victor’s voice piped up next to him, startling him and causing him to stumble over his blade. Great impression he was making.

“Maybe unconsciously,” he said cautiously, feeling like there was a right answer to this question that he wasn’t getting. Victor simply hummed, skating a circle around him. “You can’t land the axel without falling, first.” He said as he stopped in front of him.

_How were his eyes this blue?_

“I- um-“

“Come on, go for it. Put your back into it.” Victor’s voice was stern as he commanded him to go and jump. He took a deep breath and skated off, circling his little corner and getting ready to jump.

“You need to jump up.” Victor said simply, once he’d under rotated the hell out of his axel. “Like this you’ll never get around. Like I said, you need to fall.” He left him to practice some back scratch spins, which were coincidentally also the bane of his existence.

His heart was still pounding as he stepped into the car an hour later. He had probably been the most unimpressive student ever, but in that moment he barely couldn’t find it in himself to care because Victor had actually coached him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed please leave a kudo/comment, I thrive on feedback <3


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